Please Don't Be Long
by chuffed-git
Summary: Not ATU. She would have never guessed her old summertime neighbor would become the Beatles' guitarist. And he would have never guessed they would ever meet again.
1. Little Child, Little Child

_Shropshire, England 1953_

_He'd seen her before. Every year when he visited his grandmother. But she had never really occurred to him. She was always just the girl next door . . . but this year when he saw her, she seemed different. She was older now. _

_She sat, propped up on the white fence in front of what he assumed was her home. She didn't do anything, just leaned there, her hands folded neatly in front of her, unaware of her audience. _

_George licked his lips and cleared his suddenly dry throat. _

_He jumped a little when a hand slapped onto his shoulder. "Well, what a little pervert we've got here." George scowled and shrugged off his brother's shoulder. They stood on the front porch, and Peter smirked at him._

"_Shut up, I'm no pervert!" George defended himself, sticking his chest out a little. He was only 13, and compared to his brothers 16 years he seemed like no match. Peter just chuckled._

"_Betcha don't even know what 'pervert' means!" _

"_Yeah, sure I do!" George said angrily, but turned away. Back to his young neighbor. She was still in her spot on the fence. George wrinkled his nose. Why wasn't she moving?_

"_Wanna know how to get 'er?" his brother's voice said from behind him. The sun was setting, casting darkness over the house. _

_George turned around, skeptically. "Huh?"_

_Peter leaned up against the railing of the porch and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. George watched as he put it to his lips and made to light it. Suddenly he stopped and looked George straight in the eye. "You tell Gran I nicked this and I'll pound ya. Got it?" George gulped and nodded quickly while Peter lit his cig and puffed it. He exhaled fully before continuing. "So, do you wanna know how to get a bird?"_

_George walked to where his brother was and sat on top of the rail surrounding the porch. He squinted his eyes. He wasn't sure if he could trust this sudden offer of brotherly advice. "You know how to?" he questioned._

_This angered Peter for a moment, but he brushed George's comment off as an annoyance before regaining his cool demeanor. "Sure thing. Are you kidding, dolls can't get enough of me! All the fellas, they ask themselves, 'Just how does he do it?' but I'll never tell them!" Peter exaggerated, trying to make himself look impressive in front of his younger sibling. "But . . . since you're my brother and all, I'm going to let in you in on my secrets."_

_George looked at his brother with widened eyes, honored that his brother would confide in him such important advice. "Okay. What is it?"_

_They both turned to look at the girl next door, now picking some of the flowers in the front of her house. Her light blue dress ruffled as a breeze blew. _

"_Alright, first things first, you haveta be cool," George's brother said smoothly. George nodded, watching the girl determinedly. "Don't let her know how much you like her. You gotta make her wonder. Drives them nuts." _

_George watched her pick a last flower and stand as another breeze came, pushing her hair in front of her face. She tucked it behind her ear and smiled happily as she looked at her fresh bouquet. George couldn't help but admire her now that he was older and could properly appreciate a woman's beauty. _

"_Next, tell 'em they look pretty. They love hearing that sort of stuff," Peter continued, still puffing his cigarette. "I mean, they spend so much time getting all prettied up for us . . . just gotta tell 'em what they want to hear." He shrugged. George turned to his brother and nodded, hoping he would go on. "If you can, take her somewhere you can dance," he said after a moment._

"_I'm no dancer!" George said, grimacing. He had always been a little awkward on the dance floor._

_George rolled his eyes. "So what? Them birds love it. You wanna know why?" George nodded eagerly and Peter chuckled. "Sex." George gulped a little and blushed at the word. "It reminds of 'em of it. Bodies all rubbed up against each other, all sweaty and stuff. Also, you can get real close when you talk, otherwise how can she hear you? You've practically got to get right up to her ear. They like to feel special, you know? Like what you're saying is only for them."_

_George thought about it for a second. It did make sense, even if he didn't dance too well. He nodded to himself and turned back to the girl, now analyzing the situation more than before, as if he now knew the step-by-step way to get any girl. _

"_And don't be too nice, whatever you do. They'll be bored with you in a second." George questioned this advice . . . wasn't he taught to be nice to everyone? Especially girls? "I mean," added George's brother. "Hold the door open and all that shit. But don't be a pansy. You're a man after all!" George puffed out his chest at the mention of being a man. Peter looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, maybe you're not but you will be soon, I guess."_

_George deflated a little and scratched the back of his head. Both of the boys turned back to the girl, who was now in her original spot. "Okay, I'm gonna do it." George decided aloud. He was nervous, but he wanted more to prove to his older brother that he was indeed worthy of his secret information. He started to walk down the steps and over to the girl when Peter called out to him._

"_Here," he said, handing George the rest of his cigarette. "Be cool, yeah?" _

_George didn't take the cigarette right away, a little intimidated by it. But he had to look cool in front of his brother, so he reached out and took the tobacco stick. George took a deep breath before making his way over to the neighbor's house. _

_As he approached her, he felt less and less confident. She was taller than him. _

_It's not too late, he thought to himself. Turn around. He stopped in his tracks, about to make a run for it, when she turned and looked straight at him. _

_She didn't say hi, only smiled, as her hazel eyes locked with his. George was silent for a moment, faltering in his mind. Not knowing what else to do, he put the cigarette in his mouth and took a drag, standing as he'd seen his brother do. Cool. As he inhaled, a rough, dry taste poisoned his mouth, and the back of throat burned. He had not expected the foul taste of the thing. Almost instantaneously, he began choking on the smoke, exhaling the plume hurriedly. _

_He coughed and coughed. Trying to stop only made it worse. He couldn't help but be ashamed of himself._

_Eyes slightly watery, George looked up to the girl in front of him. She laughed. George immediately felt his cheeks redden, and he looked to the ground, embarrassed. He had ruined it, made himself look stupid. There was no chance of anything now. So he turned on his heal to make his way back home. _

"_Wait!" an amused voice said from behind him. George turned around, his heart beating with hope. The girl closed the small gap between them. "What's your name?" she asked George, smiling._

"_George. Harrison." He said, his voice a little hoarse He didn't feel completely confident with himself at the moment, and wanted nothing more to go home and forget about his stupidity. _

"_Don't you wanna know mine?" she asked after a moment. _

_George scowled to himself. He had no interest in this conversation anymore. The cigarette had made him nauseous and he just wanted to get some water to clear his throat. "What's your name?" he grumbled._

"_Brigitte. Just like Brigitte Bardot!" she said proudly. _

"_Right." He didn't smile. Hers didn't falter, and she looked at him with a smirk in her eye. _

"_You come 'round here every year, dontcha?" She leaned all her weight on one side, as girls often do. George nodded. "Thought so. Me too. My grandma's . . ." she trailed off, pointing to where the house they were in front of. _

"_Right. Me too." He was a little more hopeful now. He didn't expect this attention from her. Not to say he didn't enjoy it. She was very pretty. She had smooth skin and bow shaped lips, which were a natural pink color. Her big eyes were a captivating shade of light brown with just enough green in them to turn them more of an orange color._

_She peaked around George to where his brother was leaning against the post. "Say, is that you're brother, there?"_

_George turned and looked at him before returning his gaze to her. "Him? Yeah, he's my brother."_

_George was slightly irked when she didn't return her gaze back to him, but continued to stare at Peter. "He sure is something . . . " she said more to herself than George. She let out a little sigh. George scowled. "Think you could tell him about me?"_

"_Right. Sure. Been real fab talking with you."_

_Without another word, and hands shoved in his pockets, George walked away from the girl. She was so distracted by his older brother; he doubted she even noticed him leave. He angrily flicked his cigarette as he marched past his brother. _

_It would be another year before he spoke to her again. _

-.-.-.-.-.-.

_Liverpool, 1963_

"Hey! Judy! Put on that record, will ya?"

No one looked up from her work, but a smile spread across almost every woman's lips. An older woman, who was anything but frail, was standing along the wall and she scowled and rolled her eyes. "It better not be another one of those 'rock n' roll' records!" she said bitterly.

"Aw, come on, Judy! Rock n' roll is the sound of a new era!"

"You just do your work, now, Bri, and I'll put the bleedin' record on!" Judy, who was slightly hunched over and looked older than she was, walked over to an old uneven table and pulled out a record laying on top of a pile underneath the it. Mumbling to herself about the downfall of this generation, she placed the record on the player and carefully placed the needle on top of it as it spun. The room was instantly filled with noisy clang of guitars and drums. The girls all danced in their seats as the steady beat was accompanied by almost indecipherable lyrics.

"I don't know what we would do if you didn't bring that in," a petite blond said, nodding her head in the direction of the record player.

"We'd all be dead, by now," Brigitte said sadly, but with a lightness to it. "Half by suicide . . . this awful place."

Her friend just laughed. Brigitte smiled and pushed some of her mousy brown hair from her face. The room was hot, and her forehead was sticky with sweat. She mouthed the words to the song as she continued to sew.

It was an awful job. But it paid. Not much, but just enough. With a sigh, she rested her head on her hand. She could work as a seamstress for now. She could bear it. But for how long, really? She had dreams, too, you know! But being born into near poverty, she didn't really have a choice about what she did.

At least she got to listen to her records.

There was a bang as the door slammed open. All the women looked up from their sewing, but returned to it as soon as they had seen who had arrived.

"Turn off that music!" she said, frantically running over to the record player and shutting it off. "Please tell me there is a radio around here!"

Brigitte stood and walked over to her childhood friend. "Annie, what are you doing?"

"We've got to get to a radio, Bri!" she said desperately. "I've already got Linda and Marie at theirs, waiting by the telephones, you know!"

"Why?" Brigitte said, narrowing her eyes at her friend.

"Alfie Ray is doing a give-away! Tickets, Brigitte, tickets! To a show!" Annie half laughed her sentence, but looked so anxious to leave she was sweating.

"I'm working, Annie!" Brigitte laughed at her friend. Annie stopped bouncing and looked at Brigitte, who was slightly taller.

"Brigitte. This is a once and lifetime opportunity. We never get to go out! And if we just answer the question, we win the tickets for free! We'll get to see the Beatles for free, Bri!" Annie reanimated as she finished her thought. Brigitte herself was getting rather excited.

She hadn't listened to the Beatles much; their records were new and more expensive than the one's she usually got. That didn't mean she didn't know of them. They were, after all, the pride of Liverpool. That alone would make the show something else.

She was about to respond yes to her best mate, when someone grabbed her ear gently. "And what about what Miss Judy says about all this?" the thick woman said reproachfully. Judy was stern, but Brigitte knew she loved her. She'd worked at the factory since she was Brigitte's age. Brigitte assumed that Judy saw herself in the girl.

"Oh please, please? Please let her go, Miss Judy!" Annie pleaded. Brigitte watched amusedly as Judy only got more and more peeved while her friend whined. Finally, when Annie had stopped pleading, Brigitte turned to Judy. She didn't say anything, only looked Judy with hopeful eyes, lips forming a humble smile.

"Oh, alright, alright!" Judy exclaimed, throwing her hands up. Annie nearly exploded with excitement.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! Let's go, Brigitte! Before we miss it!" Annie grasped Brigitte's wrist and began forcefully pulling her towards the door.

Before they left, Brigitte turned back. "Thank you, Miss Judy! I'll work extra, I promise!"

And they were gone.

Brigitte didn't live too far from the factory, so they ran the whole way there. They reached her home and stood in front of it, catching their breath.

"I've only got one line, you know!" Brigitte said in between breaths.

Annie, unable to speak yet, just shook her head. "I've already asked your neighbor . . . Mr . . . um . . ."

"McCorcle?"

"Yeah! I'm going to use his telephone. One of the four of us will get it, we have to!" Annie nearly squealed. "Now go! Do you know the station?"

"Yes, of course!"

Annie nodded and ran across the street to Mr. McCorcle's house. Brigitte, not wasting time, didn't watch her go in, but headed straight for her kitchen.

Her mother was sitting at the table, drinking her afternoon tea, and listening to some talk radio, when Brigitte flew in. Without a word, she hurriedly turned to the right station. A blaring harmonica was fading out as the song ended.

"Annnnd that was the hit single 'Love Me Do' by Liverpool's own . . . The Beatles!" a deep charismatic voice said through the speakers. Brigitte inhaled sharply. Just in time.

"Brigitte! What on earth are you doing? I was listening to –"

"SHH!" Brigitte shushed her angry mother. She turned up the volume full blast

"Brigitte! Turn that down!" her mother yelled to be heard.

"SHHHH! Mother, just a moment! Please!"

"And now, ladies and . . . well ladies mostly, I'm sure, is the moment you all undoubtedly have been waiting for. It's time to ring in for your chance to see the handsome quartet next weekend, live at the Cavern. This is gonna be a big one, folks. And all you have to do is answer this question correctly:"

Brigitte was bouncing on her toes, ready to dash to the phone at any moment. "Just give the damn question already!" she muttered as Alfie Ray paused for dramatic effect.

"The Beatles' recently released hit album, Please Please Me, was created at what recording studio?"

Brigitte didn't hear what else Alfie Ray was saying; she was already dialing the phone number for the station. She held her breath as it rang. She waited for someone to pick up when on the radio she heard:

"Alright we have our caller!" Brigitte's heart sank as she heard Alfie Ray exclaim the news. "Alright, caller, what recording studio is responsible for the hit album Please Please Me?" Brigitte hung up the phone disappointedly and slumped down at the table with her mother. She had known the answer too, she thought miserably.

"Oh, God, is it Abbey Road Studios? Please tell me it's Abbey Road," the caller said, sounding stressed. Brigitte perked up. She recognized that voice.

"That's correct, young lady!" exclaimed Alfie Ray, but he was overpowered by the squeal of the winner from the other line. "Congratulations, you've just won two tickets to see the one and only Beatles next weekend at the Cavern. Tell us, what's your name?"

"It's Annie! Annie Anderson, sir!" she yelled happily. Brigitte leapt up and let out a cry of delight as she jumped in her spot.

"Brigitte, what _is _this all about?" her mother asked, turning down the loud radio.

"Oh, Mother, she's won! Annie's won!" she said happily, covering her mouth with amazement.

"What's she won?" her mother asked sternly.

"Haven't you been listening?"

"Brigitte, don't you dare talk to me like that," she scolded. She pulled out another teacup for her daughter and filled it with tea. "Now sit down, and drink your tea."

"Yes, Mum." The moment Brigitte sat down however, the slam of a door was heard.

"What in the—" her mother said, startled.

Just as Brigitte expected, a red-faced Annie came running into the kitchen. "Didya hear?" she exclaimed. Brigitte's mother cleared her throat meaningfully. Annie turned to her respectfully. "Oh, hello there Mrs. Mackie. Sorry for the intrusion." She curtseyed quickly before turning to Brigitte. "So did you?"

"I did!" Brigitte said happily and Annie squealed and hugged her friend tightly.

"Oh, what are we to wear?" Annie moaned, though she was grinning from ear to ear. "Alfie Ray says I can go pick up my tickets tomorrow at the station! You haveta come with me!"

"Tickets for what?" Ms. Mackie said loudly to overpower Annie's shrill voice. The smiling girls turned to her. "I would like to know what is going on here, Brigitte."

Brigitte cleared her throat and grinned as she stepped forward, hands folded in front of her. "Mother, we are going to see the Beatles!"

-.-.-.-.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Beatles or anything. Yeah.

A/N: Chapter two should be coming soon! Hope you liked! Leave a comment! More Beatles in the next one, I swear. This was kinda just the intro!


	2. Roll Over, Beethoven

_**August 3, 1963, Liverpool**_

There they were.

The girls had gotten up extra early to find something nice to wear, do their hair and makeup, and have a bite before the big show tonight. They had listened to the radio, endlessly playing the Beatles' songs, and danced excitedly to the catchy tunes. They had spent the whole day getting prepared for what they hoped would be the night of their dull lives.

And there they were.

It was crowded, and Brigitte noticed it was mostly with girls. She chuckled to herself as she and Annie waited in their spots for the band to come on stage. Annie was bouncing eagerly on her feet, and Brigitte couldn't stop grinning. Just the energy in the room alone was enough to get her excited- and the band hadn't even come out yet!

She was already having a wonderful time. It wasn't very often she got to do such fun things. Most of her days were spent working at the factory or helping her mother around the house, cleaning and the sort. She was used to it, she had never really known anything else, except in the summers when she would travel to see her grandparents. Her life had become a long line of dull activities as she tried to get by.

So to be at a live rock n' roll concert? Her heart pumped with a natural high of excitement. The night had barely just begun, but the whole day had been an adventure, and so the anticipation was at its peak.

She looked around the crowded club. Her eyes locked with Annie's and they grinned and laughed with each other.

"I wish they would get on with it already!" Annie said impatiently as she tried to get a glimpse of anyone just off-stage.

"They'll be out soon!" Brigitte said, though she too was growing impatient. She sighed and looked around again, taking everything in. The loud buzz of people chatting happily, the smell of too much body heat and booze. Brigitte smiled a little to herself before turning back to Annie. "Half of the female population is here, I'm sure!"

Annie looked around the room and chuckled as she turned back to the stage. Her eyes instantly got wider and her mouth formed a bright grin. "Of course, it is! They are even cute in person! Look!" she said, pointing to the stage, but half of what she said was drowned out by the squeals and screams of all the girls around them.

Brigitte looked to the stage.

Four lean men stood in their positions, matching suits and haircuts and everything. Brigitte felt her face light up as they made themselves comfortable with their instruments. One of them, in the front, stepped up to his microphone.

"Thank you!" he said over the crowd, though he could barely be heard. He laughed and looked to his band mate, looking sheepish and scratching the back of his head. "Thank you . . . very good . . . yes . . . 'ta . . ." he said, trying to ease the crowd down. Brigitte watched him pluck at his backward bass absent-mindedly as the four boys look at each other happily. Seeming to get a burst of excitement, he stepped to the microphone again and greeted, "Liverpool!"

Cheers erupted. Brigitte herself let out a cry of joy, but couldn't help but look around at the crowd in their hyper state. She laughed when she heard several girls chorus, "We love you, Paul!"

"It's good to be home, eh boys?" Another boy said. Brigitte knew this one was John. There was another cheer and John did a quick dance with his feet before loudly counting off. And with that the Fab Four began playing their song.

Brigitte was a bit dazed. There was movement all around her, people shouting and dancing and screaming, and the loud sounds of the guitars and drums. She stopped bouncing along with the music for a moment and she smiled as she watched everyone enjoying themselves. She felt her own excitement build up in her and she couldn't help it, she let out a shout and danced wildly in her spot.

She had never heard music sound so good as it did live. And she relished the moment a little longer before watching the four boys play their popular songs. She looked to the one called "Paul" as he plucked at the bass, looking truly happy as he sang into the microphone. He threw another look to John, and Brigitte turned her attention to him.

He strummed his guitar and bobbed up and down to the beat. He looked serious for a moment, unsmiling, before catching Paul's glance and grinning as he, too, sang. Brigitte couldn't help but admire him. He was awfully good looking, and there was a glint in his eye that she couldn't quite place.

She watched him until the song had finished and everyone, including herself, roared with applause and howls.

"Wasn't that just great?" Annie said happily. Brigitte nodded eagerly. "And the show's only just started!"

Brigitte smiled softly at her friend. She knew that the show would be over before they knew it- thing like this often did pass too quickly. But Brigitte shook the thought from her head. _I must enjoy it while it is still here,_ she told herself.

The band chatted with the crowd for a moment before playing more songs, sending everyone back into their frenzied state of dancing and singing along.

Brigitte turned attention to the drummer in back, and tried to see exactly what he was doing to create the beat. It was difficult. Too difficult, she decided, so she opted to just dance to the beat instead. As she did she let her eyes wander to the last of the four musicians.

He was playing his guitar, his hair casting a slight shadow over his eyes, though it was obvious he was focusing everything on the music. His eyes flicked up to the crowd for a moment and he flashed a lopsided smile, which turned to a grin as he and Paul danced around.

Brigitte's wide smile disappeared and she stopped dancing, instead just bobbing her head with the music. She continued to watch the boy. He was a bit awkward in the way he moved; he was a bit lanky, and the suit didn't help much, Brigitte figured. As he played, she noticed that at times his face would seem almost void of expression, or concentration, she wasn't sure. But he would grin or laugh when provoked by his band mates and Brigitte couldn't help but feel like she had seen him before.

"He's so cute, isn't he?" Annie shouted to Brigitte. She must have noticed her staring.

Brigitte nodded and smiled. He _was_ handsome, but there was something else . . .

"He looks so familiar!" she said, trying to explain to Annie.

Annie just shrugged. "They're everywhere!" and Brigitte agreed. She had probably just seen his picture around town too many times.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and continued to dance to the music.

-.-.-.-

_Her hips swayed side to side gracefully and her shoulders moved in sync with them. She had a bounce in the way she moved, going in time with the upbeat rock n' roll record. Her back was too him, she didn't notice he was there yet. So he decided to take this moment to watch her slight curves dance to the music as she watered the plants from the back porch. _

_She was wearing a simple blue dress with no sleeves. The back was a little lower so part of her back and shoulders were exposed, and George didn't miss it. He rested his head on the fence, letting his arms droop over onto the opposite side. _

"_You're a real fab dancer," he said with a slight sneer. She stopped moving and turned around, eyebrow raised. She bent down to turn off the waterspout before returning her gaze back to George, putting her hands on her hips and glaring. He just smiled back, and motioned to the record player, still going. "You listenin' to Elvis?" he asked, sounding bored as she walked over to where he was at the fence. _

"_Yeah," she said with a little smile. "He's just a dream!" She rested her arm on the fence and placed her head on her hand, sighing. "He's a real singer, too."_

_George stood up straight from his original position with slight grimace. "Who? Elvis?" he scoffed slightly. "He doesn't even write his own songs."_

_Brigitte stood up straight to match his height and she glared for a moment before raising an eyebrow at him. "Let's see your songs, then?" she demanded. She smirked when didn't respond, but just smacked his lips and looked away, dejected by the comment. She moved to stand on the other side of him, holding her hands in front of her as she leaned up against the fence. "Besides, you like Elvis, too," she accused of him. "I've heard you playing his records, you know!"_

_George clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. They stood there like that in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say. They didn't look at each other until George said, "Well, don't stop everything on my account, please continue," he said jokingly, motioning to the abandoned record player and hose. She glared at him slightly before standing up from the fence. "What're you doin', anyways?"_

_There was a slight march in her step as she crossed him and over to the hose. She turned it back on and bent over to pick it up. Knowing she could see him, he watched her bend, and whistled slightly. She stood up quickly and rolled her eyes at the boy. "Can't you see, I'm watering the garden!" she said, irritated._

"_How 'bout I come over there and water _your_ garden?" he said quickly, wiggling his eyebrows. Shocked, Brigitte let a little gasp escape her lips and sent George a disgusted look. He winked at her. She raised her eyebrow and directed the water from the hose over to George. He jumped back as water came flying towards him. He dodged it, and smirked triumphantly at the sixteen year old across from him. _

"_Come on," he urged, teasing the girl. "Let's go for a swim, yeah? You don't even have to bring your bathing suit!"_

"_You are such a pervert, George!" she shouted at him, though she was smiling slightly. _

_George leaned against the fence again, not smiling as he looked down. "Ah, no way," he said quietly. "Besides, I only came out here to tell ya that Pete told me that you should meet him at the pond."_

_George scowled to himself as her hazel eyes lit up. Of course, he was lying. He always knew she had a thing for his brother. _

"_Really? The Pond? How romantic," she said giddily to herself. She looked back to George, a small flush on her cheeks. "What for?" she questioned, eyebrows pulling together._

_George waved his hand. "Ah, you know," he said, nonchalantly. "He thinks you're 'just _a dream'_. The greatest."_

_George watched as she picked up on the sarcasm in his voice. He could see her glowing face fall to one of annoyance, cheeks still flushed, but now with anger. _

"_You're lying!" she exclaimed and George held back a chuckle as he shrugged. She let out an exasperated cry, but George just looked away into his own yard, smiling to himself. As he was about to turn around and say something else, he felt the splash of water against the side of his face and body. _

_He jumped back and shook his damp head, shocked, as Brigitte erupted into giggles. He scowled but broke into a smile instead and let out a sigh._

"_Sorry!" Brigitte said in between giggles. "You had it comin', you know!"_

"_Yeah, yeah" George mumbled but he sent her a lopsided smile as he tried to dry himself off. He stood up and they looked at each other for a moment, grins fading into warm smiles. They stared at each other and George noticed how the sun hit her face, making her eyes look brighter. They didn't say move, until . . ._

"_Brigitte! You better not be ruining that record player! It does not belong outside!" _

_She turned towards the sound of the voice, inside the house. She slowly looked back to George and smiled a little, shrugging. "Well . . . see ya," she said softly with a small wave. _

_George waved back, and scratched the back of his neck. He stood there even after she went inside, observing the spot where she walking in. After a moment, he sighed and went back into his own house._

_-.-.-._

There was noise buzzing everywhere as everyone shifted around, but it still seemed quiet without the loud notes of the music. Brigitte sighed, sad that it was over. But she wasn't sad for too long. She had had a wonderful time! But she hated the idea that it was all over, and she would be back to her usual schedule tomorrow.

"Wasn't that just great?" Annie squealed. Brigitte grinned.

"Yeah, it really was," Brigitte agreed. She stood on her tiptoes and scanned the room. She lowered herself, her lips pursed together. "What are the chances of getting a drink in this place, d' you think?" she asked, not quite wanting to go home and end the night. Her hopes weren't high- the place was packed!

"Eh, no chance here," Annie responded, taking a look around the room. "Everyone's waitin' for the Beatles to come out." She shook her head. "Too bad they probably wouldn't get a drink here for the life of them."

"You think so?"

"Sure!" Annie said, leading Brigitte through the crowd towards the door. "I mean, they'd be attacked by screaming girls before they could get a beer! Come on, let's go somewhere else!"

Brigitte just grinned as Annie continued to push her way, somewhat rudely, to the door.

.-.-.-

"Didya see the place? Never seen it so full before," Paul said excitedly before taking a sip of the beer in front of him.

The other three men just nodded in agreement as they gulped their beer. It had been a tiring night, and the band wanted nothing more than to relax and drink. Unfortunately, even the bar to which they escaped was more crowded than they would have liked.

George turned around and examined the bar, taking another sip of his beer. There were mostly people older than him, but he didn't miss the younger girls sitting on the other side of the bar eying him and his friends eagerly. He tilted his glass to them, and winked quickly, and he chuckled to himself as the girls all giggled.

"It's strange," Ringo said, seeing the girls laughing as well. "Suddenly we have the power to make a girl have a fit"

"Even you?" John questioned, jokingly. "Even with a nose like that?" George chuckled at John's cruel joke, but shook his head a looked back to the bar. "Besides, I could always do that."

"Uh huh," Paul said sarcastically to John. "Real randy sod, over here."

John scoffed. "Just like you," he said, turning his nose up a little to his friend, and pushing his lips out at Paul mockingly.

They all laughed, except for George, but nobody noticed. Someone had caught his attention. He watched her and her friend stand by the bar and sip their beers, chatting over the music playing.

He must have met her before, he thought. She looked so familiar. The way she danced faintly to the music as she talked, the way she laughed . . . there was something recognizable about her, but George just couldn't place it.

"What's up, son?" John asked, slapping George on the back. George nodded to the girl, but didn't take his eyes off her.

"That girl . . . " he trailed. John searched the crowd.

"Where?"

"There?"

"Who?" Ringo asked, also looking.

"That girl . . ."

"Which girl?"

"Right there!"

"That one?"

"No, I think he means the one next to her," Paul added.

"No, _her!_ See, in the green."

"Ah," John said when he saw the young woman. She was wearing a green dress that hugged her thin frame, accentuating what curves she had. She was dressed rather plainly, blending into the crowd.

George shook his head at John. "I know her from somewhere . . ."

"Doesn't look familiar to me," Ringo said shrugging taking a gulp of beer.

"You probably met her at a show," Paul shrugged, turning around.

George just shook his head again. It couldn't have been a show, he just knew it. He look at her a moment longer, and was about to give it a rest, when she looked over in his direction.

And it clicked.

"I remember! He exclaimed, and John looked at him, eyebrow raised. "She used to live next to me in the summer when I visited my Gran."

Paul nodded and took another drink.

"Well…?" John urged impatiently as they continued to watch the ladies.

"Well, what?" George asked.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" Ringo asked innocently, but he smirked at his friend knowingly and nodded his head towards the thin woman.

George looked back to her, watching her dance in her spot as she talked to her friend. Two young men approached them and began speaking with them, standing very close. George pursed his lips together. Should he go over there?

What would he say? Would she even remember him? George felt a sudden wave of anxiety wash over him. A slap on the shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

"Come on, man," John said, lowering his face to George's and speaking quieter.

"What would I say?" he asked unsurely.

"It hardly matters!" John said happily, standing up straight and winking at a group of nearby girls. "You probably don't even have to say a word, and she'll give you the time."

Brigitte's friend looked over at the group suddenly, her eyes getting wide. She whispered something to Brigitte, and she too turned around, but only to catch a glimpse of the band before turned back around.

"See, she just looked," Ringo said, also standing close to John and George.

"Ah, that is the sign, my friend," Paul said wisely, turning around in his chair. "That's the 'go-ahead', everyone knows that."

George clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at his friends, but quickly turned his attention back to the girl. George couldn't help but remember how he felt when he had seen her in the summers- hormonal and intrigued by the girl; she had been the first one he had been around when he first had an interest in girls. He figured that was why he felt like he did looking at her now. Awkward and unsure.

"I think I'll just... " he began, but he was unable to finish his thought because someone had forcefully pushed him forward, making him stumble a bit into the person standing in front of him.

The person turned around, expecting an apology, but George just whipped his head back to John and scowled. John grinned mischievously and snickered as Paul, Ringo and himself turned around to face the other direction, pretending not to pay attention to George.

George turned the girl. Her friend was watching him carefully, trying not to make it obvious she was staring. George composed himself and took a step towards the two. Her friend nudged her in the side and she turned around as he called out," Brigitte!"

Her friends' eyes grew wide as he walked closer, but Brigitte just squinted her eyes, searching his face for a moment as she closed the distance between them. George panicked a little and felt his face heating up at the lack of recognition. Didn't she remember him?

Her eyes got a little wider but relaxed as she smiled and shook her head almost unnoticeably. "I though you looked familiar," she said, almost to herself.

George grinned. "You saw the show, then?" he asked. He looked her up and down. She looked so similar to the way she had the last time he had seen her. He wondered if he had changed all that much to make him unrecognizable.

"Yeah, it was fab!" she said, grinning as well. She looked up him with her hazel eyes. He was taller than she was now, George noticed. "Look, we're both grown up, now," she giggled, also noticing how they have changed. "Last time I saw you, we were what . . . 16?"

George nodded and laughed. She looked at something behind his shoulder and then back to him, holding back a laugh. George turned around himself and saw that the three others were watching him. They all grinned and laughed with each other. George squinted his eyes at them, wondering what they had been doing a moment ago, behind his back. Paul flashed a smile and sent George a thumbs up, and George smiled tensely at them before turning back to Brigitte, his cheeks pink. She looked at him expectantly, smiling. He smiled sloppily at her. "Oh!" he said. "Wanna meet the fellas?" George asked, nodding back to wear the rest sat. He wasn't sure what else to do, seeing as no coherent thought was forming in his mind.

In that moment, he knew he was hopeless when it came to women.

"Alright," Brigitte said shyly, and George grinned, semi relieved. He grabbed her hand, making her face flush a little, and pulled her over to where he had been sitting.

Three men, matching George's attire, looked up at the couple when they approached. Brigitte's heart was beating faster and faster. This night was turning into something else- she never would have imagined she would meet the Beatles!

"'Ello, 'ello," John said, sitting up straighter. "Not even gone a minute and you've already got a bird. Well done," he said to George, but he kept his attention on Brigitte. "A lovely one, at that." Brigitte smiled and tilted her head slightly towards John.

"Can it, Lennon," George said, finally releasing Brigitte's hand. George smiled and said, "Guys, this here is Brigitte—"

"Like Brigitte Bardot," John stated, interrupting George, and watching Brigitte. Her eyes locked with his, sharing a long look. She squinted her eyes a little, but half smiled, admiring John's demeanor.

"Yeah, sure," George continued. John and Brigitte gazed at each other a moment longer, until she broke eye contact and looked to George. "This is Paul, John, and Ringo." He introduced them all, pointing to them respectively. "We used to be neighbor's when I would visit my Gran." He explained.

She nodded to them to say hello, not sure if she could speak. She was in awe at the famous people in front of her. Up until this point, the Beatles didn't really exist to her. She saw them in the papers and heard their music, but she never had this real physical evidence in front of her. "Wow, g-great show, boys!" she said when she was able to.

They all grinned at her and said thanks, and Brigitte smile excitedly. Suddenly, she felt cold fingers snake their way around Brigitte's arm, and grasp it firmly. Not expecting the touch, she jumped.

"It's only me . . ." Annie said softly near her ear.

Brigitte turned a little. "Oh, hello," she said breathlessly. Her and Annie shared a similar excited look with each other.

"Hello," Ringo said politely to the person behind Brigitte.

Brigitte pulled her friend forcefully forward to the group of boys. "This is Annie, don't mind her much."

Annie scoffed, but it came out forced as she stared at the famous band in front of her. "You guys . . . you're really something, you know?"

"I'm sure they know, Annie," Brigitte laughed.

"No, we certainly don't!" John said, exaggeratedly. "Please, tell us!" Brigitte giggled and they stood for a moment without speaking.

"Well, are you going to buy her a drink or not?" Paul asked with a smirk. George felt a little embarrassed by this statement and looked sheepishly at Brigitte.

She smiled up at him widely, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "I'd love a drink," she answered the question Paul had asked for him. George smiled sheepishly and motioned for her to follow him to two empty seats at the bar.

They sat down and George ordered some beers from the bartender. He studied the room again as they waited, and Brigitte suddenly felt very self-conscious. She adjusted her dress- it was her friend Flora's, and it didn't fit Brigitte as well as it did her. It made Brigitte painfully aware of her thin frame, and made her wish she could fill out the dress a little better. She had done her brown hair nicely, curled with a thick headband to keep it out of her face, but seeing all the other beautiful girls tonight had made her unsure of even that.

George and Brigitte's eyes met, and they both laughed awkwardly. George scratched the back of his neck. Brigitte took a gulp from the beer in front of her. Neither one of them knowing what to say, Brigitte cleared her throat. George looked at her.

"You stopped visiting your grandma," she pointed out and took another sip. She could feel the blush spread on her cheeks. She was devastated that she couldn't think of anything better to say. This was Beatle for Christ's sake! He'd probably talked to the most interesting people in the UK, and all she could say was "you stopped visiting your grandma."

"Yeah," he chuckled, also take a swig of beer. "Things got crazy . . . you know . . ." he gestured to the bar and all the people, some of whom were sneaking glances at the boy.

Brigitte nodded in understanding and looked at him with big eyes and an admiring smile. "Who knew," she said, still smiling. "That the boy next door would grow up to be _George Harrison_."

George shrugged. "Well, my mum knew. She named me, after all." George watched as her smile widened and she let out a laugh. He smiled proudly to himself.

"Yes" Brigitte said excitedly. "But you're the guitarist of _the_ band!"

"Eh, we're not _the _band. Not until we get to America."

"I've never met anyone famous before."

"But you've known me all along!"

"I supposed I have." They smiled at each other, and Brigitte downed the rest of her beer. George raised his eyebrows at that, not used to seeing a woman drink like that. John and Ringo made their way over to the twosome, and lean against the bar next to them.

"Another round, then?" John muttered, noticing Brigitte's empty glass. He signaled the bartender, and handed her another beer.

"Cheers," she said softly, looking at John in the eye. He tipped his glass a bit before taking a big gulp not breaking eye contact. Brigitte did the same. John didn't look away from her even after he had put down his glass, perhaps not sure what to make of her yet.

The song changed and Brigitte set her glass down suddenly, a smile slowly appearing. She loved this song, and she wanted to dance now that there was space.

"Well, who'll have a dance?" she said happily to the boys.

"I'll have one," Ringo said after a moment. He held out his hand and she briskly grabbed it, pulling him quickly to the floor. Ringo looked back to his friends, and they all exchanged glances of amusement. Brigitte smiled widely to Ringo as they began to dance to the quick song. As they began to dance, John and George watched their new acquaintance.

George couldn't help but notice how easily she moved to the music. Her hips swung in a way that was more sensual than the others, and George was beginning to become entranced by her movements. So familiar, he thought. Even after all these years. She smiled, and George could practically feel her content.

Ringo seemed happy about it, too. George felt a stab of jealousy. He had known her first, shouldn't he get the dance?

"Ringo is a lucky man," John said with a small sigh. He also noticed Brigitte dancing. They watched Brigitte and Ringo dance for a moment more. She danced happily without a care, and she mouthed the words of the song. John smiled as she did this, George noticed, though he thought nothing of it. John turned to George and elbowed him in the side.

"What was that for?" George asked, annoyed.

"Well done, well done!" John exclaimed. "A bird like that when you were barely 16! Didn't think you had it in you, Georgie!"

George rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You've got the wrong idea. It wasn't like that."

"What was it like then?" John said suggestively.

George ignored his implying tone, and shrugged. "We were neighbors."

"Neighbors?"

"Mhm."

"How boring." John took a sip of his beer as they watched the young woman shake to the beat. She pouted her lips a little without realizing it, making her dancing look even more seductive. "Bet she's great in bed," John said suddenly.

George made a disgusted face and turned to John. Of course he would think about her in that way, he thought. He didn't _care_, mind you; after all they were only acquaintances. But for some reason John's comment irked him. "What makes you say that?"

John waved his hand toward the floor. "Look at the way she moves. Dead giveaway."

George continued to watch, and he supposed he could see what John was talking about. Paul and Annie had joined Brigitte and Ringo, and they all danced and laughed with each other. Brigitte laughed the hardest, throwing her head back as she danced. George smiled.

"She's exactly how I remember her," George said, partly to himself, smiling.

"Well, fantastic," John said sarcastically, losing interest in the conversation. "Maybe you can actually cop a feel this time."

George ignored the comment as they both rested their elbows on the bar and slouch a bit.

There was a chorus of laughs from behind him, and there was a suddenly a hand on his shoulder, supporting half the weight of Brigitte as she giggled and hung onto him and John. She stood between them, her cheeks beginning to redden from the alcohol.

"Quite a dancer, you are!" Annie laughed loudly, speaking to Ringo. She and Brigitte erupted in laughter and Brigitte grinned at George, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. He smiled at her and she placed her feet on the rungs of John and his stools, so she would be taller. She waved her hand wildly at the bartender, and laughed.

"More beer, please!"

-.-.-.-

"_I gave her inches four and drove it on,  
>I gave her inches four and drove it on,<br>I gave her inches four she said, "Honey, I love you,  
>Put your belly close to mine and drive it on."<em>

John threw his head back and laughed as Brigitte sang. He continued the next verse with her, throwing his arm around her shoulders and swaying back and forth as they walked down the street.

"_I gave her inches five –" _they started, but Brigitte erupted in giggles, unable to finish.

George and Annie walked behind the loud couple, Paul and Ringo just behind them. Annie sighed and shook her head, smiling and rolling her eyes at her friend.

"I knew I shouldn't have let her 'ave another before we left," she said, embarrassed. "She always gets this way, you know."

George and Annie smiled at each other, and watched the couple in front of them, zigzagging up the street, arms still around each other, but quieter now.

"You're quite the dirty bird, aren't you?" John growled into her ear as they walked.

Brigitte laughed, throwing herself forward, and placing her hand on John's chest. She shoved him away gently, making him stumble to the side. She smirked as she continued walking without John. He watched her walk from behind, smiling as her hips shook with quick steps, though she swayed a bit as she walked.

The group had spent the whole time at the bar together, and Brigitte was having a great time, partly due to the alcohol. But she had loosened up, and was able to easily keep up with the boys, throwing witty comments at each other in between dances. This seemed to get John's attention, she thought, because he hardly left her alone all night, whispering into to ear when they spoke and letting his hands rest where they pleased.

Not that Brigitte was doing anything to discourage such behavior.

He quickened his pace to catch up with her again, and snaked his arm around her waist. She giggled and wriggled away out his grasp and danced to the other side of John, saying coyly, "I'm not that kind of girl." She wrapped her arms around his neck, walking backwards so she could face him, her cheeks still flushed. She let her lips fall into an alluring smile, locking eyes with John.

"I bet you'd like to be," he responded, letting his hands rest on her hips, creating a sort of dance as they walked.

They continued to look at each other, and Brigitte blinked slowly, smirking and raising an eyebrow. She let her hands slowly fall from his shoulders, sliding along his chest. John smirked at her and gripped her sides as he felt her hands move. When her hands reached his belt buckle, John raised an eyebrow, still smirking, but she playfully twisted out of his grip and walked towards the others, though she stumbled slightly.

"Come on, Annie," she said. "Let's go back to yours."

Annie looked away from George, stopping their conversation and smiled at Brigitte, nodding.

"Tease," Brigitte heard John say and she turned around, crossing her arms, though she smiled.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Looks like you'll never know for sure."

"How about I take you home, then?" John said, lighting a cigarette.

George rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with John. "Come on, John, leave 'er alone," he warned, sounding bored with John's usual behavior.

"Yeah, don't taint her mind with your words," Paul said, winking at Brigitte as he handed her a cigarette and lit it.

"Her mind's already tainted, you'll see," John exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the girl. She just smiled and let smoke drift between her lips. "Besides, it's late! Who knows what danger lurks on these dark Liverpool streets tonight. I was only being a gentleman, you know, walking her home, is all."

"John Lennon, a gentleman," George scoffed, though jokingly. "Right."

"Actually," Brigitte said, her soprano voice standing out from the others. Everyone looked at her. "Perhaps someone _should _walk us." She suggested this to Annie, but she looked in George's direction as she spoke.

John puffed his chest out a little, assuming Brigitte was talking about him. But she didn't take her eyes off George. George looked at her and she smiled expectantly. He licked his lips looked at her, not sure how to respond. Did she mean _him?_ Why? Is she one of those girls who would jump his bones in a moment if she had the chance? Maybe she thought he was attractive, or even better, a gentleman.

"George," Paul said, noticing how his friend wasn't responding to the obvious request. "Why don't you and I walk these two lovely ladies home, yeah?"

Annie giggled and blushed, and Brigitte glanced at Paul but quickly returned her gaze to George. He smiled. "Alright," he agreed, letting an awkward chuckle escape. Paul held his arm out for Annie and they linked arms, walking towards the opposite street. George followed Paul's example, and Brigitte took his arm and followed the other two.

"What about us?" John said, sounding put out.

Brigitte turned around and smiled. "Go have a wank!"

"Ah! To Hell with you!" John joked, waving his hand at her. She laughed and turned around as she and George caught up to their friends.

A silence fell over the two as they walked arm in arm behind Paul and Annie, who were a couple meters ahead of them. They watched as Paul pointed to the sky, talking animatedly about something trivial.

Brigitte was still feeling the affects of all the beers she had consumed, but the crisp cold was waking her up a bit, and she knew the way easily back to Annie's, though she was happy with the company.

Though the group had been together all night, she felt that she and George had only talked a little, most of which was pointless garb she wouldn't remember in the morning. Brigitte thought this a little odd . . . George was the one she has known the longest, after all.

"Don't mind John," George finally said. She turned to him. He scratched his neck and smiled apologetically for his friend, before looking up to the moon ahead of them in sky. Brigitte smiled. The way the moonlight hit him made a shadow hang over his eyes, and his high cheekbones were prominent. Brigitte couldn't help but think he looked very mysterious and handsome, especially in his black suit. "He's like that all the time," he added.

"Oh, I don't mind him." George glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and Brigitte chuckled. "What I mean to say is that he's . . . fun," she said, choosing her words carefully.

She stumbled, letting out a little gasp as she did so. George tightened his grip on her and held her up. "Whoops!" she said cheerily, straightening up. George raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "What? I only 'ad a few!"

"A few, right," George laughed and she playfully hit his arm.

"It's true!" she exclaimed. "I'm much worse when I'm _really_ pissed."

George just chuckled and watched her bounce merrily beside him. Had she always been this way? George couldn't help but wonder if he had missed something great by not getting to know her all those years ago. She seemed like a good enough time, in the most respectable way.

She looked up him brightly with shining eyes and a wide smile. She squeezed his arm, seeming excited, and George wondered why. But she just skipped next to him, humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar.

George took the moment of peace to look at his surroundings. He sighed at the dismal-looking buildings and the grey street. Home.

"Everyone's really glad you're back," Brigitte said, almost reading his mind. George looked at her. She giggled. "Well, the girls, anyway."

George wiggled an eyebrow and smiled crookedly. "Eh?"

Brigitte giggled again and hid her face in his arm, and George tensed the tiniest bit when she did so. She looked up and nodded. "It's true! They think you're especially theirs because you're Liverpudlian."

"Maybe we are," he said shrugging, but with a sloppy grin. She smiled back, and a silence fell over them once again, though Brigitte seemed to dance to a song in her head as they walked.

"It's just 'round the corner," Brigitte said softly after walking a few blocks. She had put her coat on over her shoulders, no longer immune to the cold. George looked ahead to where she motioned, feeling a heaviness set over him.

If he were John or even Paul, he would have used this time "wisely," chatted her up, and made her fall in love with him as they would have done with any other girl. And here they were, just 'round the corner, and they'd barely said a word. George cursed himself for being so shy sometimes. She was just a girl, for Christ's sake. She shouldn't be this hard to talk to.

Paul and Annie had slowed down as they reached the street in front of the house, giving George and Brigitte a chance to close the gap between the groups. Brigitte took her place at Annie's side and they faced the boys.

She groaned and looked to the sky for a moment, before smiling as she sighed. "I'm going to have a raging hangover tomorrow," she mumbled, though the others chuckled.

"What'd you expect?" Annie said, rolling her eyes. "You always act so surprised!"

Brigitte scowled and waved her hand dismissively as she turned around and began to walk to the front door of the house. "Come on, it's cold as shite out 'ere, and my feet hurt," she whined, barely glancing over her shoulder.

"Alright, alright, hold on!" Annie called after her, and she turned apologetically to the snubbed celebrities. "Thanks for walking us back, boys. It's been a long night," she shrugged and grinned widely at George and Paul.

"Well, I hope it was_ lovely_, anyways," Paul said, tilting his head down, and raising his eyebrows. Annie giggled.

"Of course!"

George looked passed Annie as she spoke to Paul, at the figure now leaning against the locked door of the house, smoking another cigarette as she waited impatiently. She looked up as she exhaled a plume of smoke, and their eyes met. They stared at each other for a moment, and George noticed how coolly she sat against the door, head tilted slightly at him, her cigarette hanging from her lip.

He blinked as they watched each other, unsmiling. George raised his hand apprehensively into the air and waved his arm back and forth at her, though he still didn't smile.

Even in the poor lighting of the porch, George could see her smirk form. She took another drag from her cigarette and let all the smoke escape her lips before she responded. Annie had already made her way over to her, and was pulling out her keys.

Brigitte took the cigarette from her lips and with the other hand, she waved subtly and daintily, smirk still in place. They kept eye contact until Annie appeared to ask her something as she opened the door and they walked inside.

"Well, let's head back, then," Paul sighed, starting to walk in the direction from which they had come. George didn't move right away, and watched as the girls disappeared into the house. Just as he was about to turn away, Brigitte turned around while closing the door, giving one more sweet smile before shutting and locking the door.

George caught up to Paul, not feeling quite right. Something was different about the night now, though George couldn't quite place what it was. He tried to shrug it off (the wind down from a show night was always a little extra quiet, a little more still), but he couldn't shake the idea that the feeling might have something to do with the two girls they had just said goodnight to.

"Well, we aren't taking home any prizes tonight," Paul said, shoving his hands into his pockets, and chuckling slightly. "But those two weren't too bad a time!"

George smiled, not fully paying attention, still trying to feel like himself again. He had started thinking of all the things he _could have_ said to Brigitte while he had her, to charm her, or whatever it was that Paul and John did. He felt his own stupidity and regret wash over him in a wave.

Why couldn't he just turn to her and say, "What a lovely night to be with a lovely lady!" or something else Paul would _surely_ say. But he wasn't Paul, and he wasn't the charming one, or the cute one or whatever they called Paul. That sort of thing didn't come naturally to George.

"Hey, Paul?" he asked, brows knitted. "How do you . . ." he trailed off, not sure if he even wanted to ask Paul about it.

"Hmm?" Paul said, looking up from the ground, turning his head to George, and signaling him to go on.

George pursed his lips. He didn't want Paul to think anything of it. It was nothing, really. He had hardly known Brigitte before, and he probably wouldn't know her ever, really.

George shook his head dismissively.

"Ah, never mind."

-.-.-.

**A/n**: Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the length! That always seems to be a problem for me! Hopefully the next one will be out sooner than this one was!

Leave a comment! What's your favorite line? Favorite scene? Hope/ideas for the future? Suggestions? Anything! I crave your opinion, dudes!


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